the dance of the ink riddled fingers

overcast and understood

Posted in 52 pickup by enisea on 03/01/2010

Today, I met my God at the altar which started from ten o’clock and continued for as long as the strums of guitar and amplified voices were in unison. I suppose, I didn’t want to leave. I didn’t want to step out of reverence of my beautiful, pure, passionate and assuring God (and technically, it is completely my fault when I do), I wanted the sound of worship to continue to deafen my circumstance and my instability.  Because when it stopped, it meant returning to the painful embrace of all things that spell hard work and enduring tears and biting concrete slabs of promised joy.

Later I fought hard, I fought hard to keep a smile on my face. For the most part, lunchtime’s smile was as thin as the novelty of swigging moscato from the bottle on new years day.  It seemed every 4 minutes threatened to rip my smile as ignorantly as a three-year-old’s handling of an eighteenth century bible.

But because my mother is resilient and often unappreciated yet still soldiers on and continues to love; because my father harnessed his labour and made it work for him rather than slave to it, because he is resourceful and ambitious; because my sister offers shoulder to those who often come to her because she holds something truthful and  glows. Because my family is beautiful, I’ll put my anxieties on the shelf. I’ll take them out of sight and pick them back up only if I remember.

I didn’t know today would be so overcast. I didn’t expect to be suddenly hit with chilly winds and forget my daydreams of flying over tame waves and warm breeze.  Today, I entertained shallow for 2 minutes and let the smile and nod of a stranger tug at my warm and fuzzies.  Oh, it pains me to breathe my sudden, sullen sighs on you.

Today, it was preached the significance of opportunity: to take opportunities of benefit to our spirits and to not afford opportunities to entities of  questionable intents in order to avoid the weaving of disaster upon our lives in vulnerable times of hardships and in the temptation of self-gratitude.

Come, let us return to the LORD.
He has torn us to pieces
but he will heal us;
he has injured us
but he will bind up our wounds.

After two days he will revive us;
on the third day he will restore us,
that we may live in his presence.

Let us acknowledge the LORD;
let us press on to acknowledge him.

As surely as the sun rises,
he will appear;
he will come to us like the winter rains,
like the spring rains that water the earth. (Hosea6:1-3)

I will need to dance for at least the next fifteen minutes to reacquaint myself with definitions of freedom.
I will dance this dance for you too.

In the words of Aaron (who, by-the-way turns eight in three days), “JUST KEEP ON KEEPING ON”. Oh, how I love it when the words of “minors” jolt sense into nonsensical circumstances. Aaron’s one of the bravest boys I know.


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